


I'll Be Gone

by ThatWeirdSkittle



Category: Game Grumps, The Northern Hues (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 17:10:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12325305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWeirdSkittle/pseuds/ThatWeirdSkittle
Summary: Inspired by A-ha's acoustic performance of Take on Me





	I'll Be Gone

You finished stripping the sheets off the bed and shoved them into a basket. The apartment was completely silent, but you could still imagine Danny laughing in the living room. You sat at the edge of the stripped bed and picked up the last vestige of your old life. The picture was a candid shot from your wedding day. You had been trying to smash a slice of cake into Danny’s face, but he had caught you by the waist and hoisted you over his head, carrying you around like that until you promised not to throw cake at him. You were holding on to the back of his suit desperately, but both of you were smiling.

You ran a thumb over the picture frame, smiling sadly at the memory. Your wedding dressed was packed somewhere in the living room. It would go into storage at your mother’s house with the rest of the things you didn’t know how to look at any more. You sighed and slid the picture into the balled up sheets. You would keep that one.

You took a final look around the room and the crushing finality of this change set in. This was your decision. You couldn’t handle the absences, the late nights, the missed calls. You knew that his career was important but you still had your own needs. You would be gone before he got back from the tour, you had promised him that much.

You swallowed to force back the tears welling in your eyes and stood so that you could start to send away the pieces of the life that you were leaving behind. You did all of the moving yourself, forcing yourself to consider the life you were walking away from with every box you loaded into your father’s borrowed pick-up truck.

One box had all of the letters that Danny had ever written you, along with various scraps of songs and poems and doodles that he had done on the backs of napkins. Another had the gifts you couldn’t get rid of quite yet: Sweaters that you had ‘stolen’ that he refused to take back, a small pig plush that he picked up just ‘cause, several mix CDs that he had put together for you. Those boxes were the heaviest, even if their contents were light. With every step, you could feel a bigger part of you trying not to leave.

You loved Danny. You would always love Danny. You picked up another box. You had to do this for yourself. The isolation was too much. Sometimes love wasn’t quite enough. Sometimes you needed attention and affection and _time._ Your honeymoon had gotten cut short because of the start of a live tour. Danny had gotten the dates wrong and he was very apologetic when he realized he would have to go. He went anyway while you stayed in a hotel in Hawaii.

You moved the boxes of your clothes yet. There were fewer memories there, but you could still smell the laundry detergent that he liked to use. Some of your shirts still stunk of his cologne from when he sprayed your entire dresser so that you wouldn’t miss his smell. You weren’t sure you would ever be able to wash him out of your clothes or off of your skin. You wondered if you could ever get the taste of him off your lips.

The bedding went next. You would have to wash that as many times as it took to get rid of his smell and his hair. You considered leaving it, but you had told him that you would remove any trace of yourself. You intended to keep that promise. You moved your belongings to the truck without a break, taking your books and decorations and kitchen things.

You didn’t realize that you were overworking yourself until the last box was in the truck and you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore. You leaned against the truck and took several slow breaths. The truck was full of your old life now, and the apartment that was your marital home was empty. The tears came then, hot and sticky and uncomfortable. You slid to the ground and cried, sobs wracking your body as you tried to imagine what a life would look like without Danny, without your Husband.

Careful footsteps approached you slowly and you wiped tears from your eyes with the back of your sleeve. You looked up at the person standing over you, recognition dawning slowly as your Husband looked down at you.

“Hey.” He said softly. His voice was raw and cracked as he spoke. You couldn’t see his face, but you could imagine how red it would be if he had been crying too.

“Hey.” You replied. You knew that you looked like shit, but you didn’t care. He had already seen you at your worst.

He carefully shifted to his knees and then sat beside you by the truck. He reached for you slowly, testing your boundaries, and you crumpled into him. The tears returned then, fast and hot and stinging. You couldn’t form coherent words as you clutched his shirt, mentally willing him to _stay._

“I’m back.” He whispered, “I’m sorry, baby, I’m back.”


End file.
